


Red Lipstick Smudges

by EquusGirl0621



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adlock, Anti-Social Sherlock, Dirty Dancing, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Drugs, Uni!lock, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-13 04:26:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5694703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EquusGirl0621/pseuds/EquusGirl0621
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock was dragged to a party against his will, he didn't expect to meet someone like Irene Adler.  He's entranced by the way she sees the world.  She also has an unusual proposition for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Borrowed Cigarettes and Deductions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [samus54](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=samus54).



> So this was supposed to be a one-shot but apparently I don't know how to do those. It's currently a WIP and I will post more as I work on it. The second part is almost complete so hopefully I'll be posting it soon. I have a third part planned. Beyond that I'm not sure. There will be drug use though, just thought I'd warn you guys in case it might be triggering?
> 
> Just wanted to give a big thank you to [of_dreamers_and_detectives](https://archiveofourown.org/works/search?utf8=%E2%9C%93&work_search%5Bquery%5D=Rain+in+London) for being my beta and having late night conversations with me. You're fantastic!
> 
> Another thank you to my British friend for encouraging me to write this fic and not letting me talk myself out of it and just being generally supportive. 
> 
> Without these two people, I don't know what this fic would look like. Probably worse than I already think it is.
> 
> I have always wanted to write a drug-addict Adlock fic and I finally got the motivation to do it when I saw [a post](http://samus54.tumblr.com/post/131588720775/i-just-really-need-sherlock-and-irene-both-as-coke) by samus54 on tumblr.  
> I hope you like it, samus54!

“Could I pinch a cigarette?” Sherlock looked up to see a woman in a grey coat and black stilettos. Without a word, he fished around in his pockets until he found the pack of cigarettes and handed her one. He popped the lighter open and she placed the cigarette between her blood-red lips before leaning forward to place the end in the flame. Sherlock put the lighter back in his pocket and returned to staring at the wall across from him, expecting her to walk off after getting what she wanted. Much to his annoyance, she leaned back against the wall and took a deep drag on the cigarette. He would have sworn he heard a faint moan when she finally exhaled. “That's fantastic. I haven't had a smoke in _ages._ ” The woman's voice dropped to a purr on the last word. 

“Is there a reason behind your continued presence other than to annoy me?” Sherlock took a long drag and pointedly didn't look in her direction. 

“You looked lonely. Dragged here by a well meaning friend?” Sherlock was rendered momentarily speechless by her response. How could she possibly know about that? Unless this was John's doing, trying to set him up with someone. 

Sherlock felt equal parts irritation and fondness for his friend as he considered the possibility. John was forever trying to 'help'. Sherlock had spent the last few days holed up in their dorm room. Something John thought to be unhealthy. His solution was to drag an unwilling Sherlock to some sort of costume party. He tapped the ashes off the end of his cigarette before speaking. “What did John do to get you to talk to me?” 

“Nobody asked me to talk to you; I don't even know your name. John being the well meaning friend?” Sherlock observed her in his peripheral vision. She appeared to be watching the others around them as she exhaled a large puff of smoke. 

“My name is Sherlock Holmes but yes, as if I'd ever come to this kind of event willingly.” A bunch of rowdy, drunk uni students listening to horrible music was not Sherlock's idea of fun. The stimuli was an overload on his senses, even if the information flooding his brain was predictably boring. “What led you to your conclusion, Miss...?”

“Adler. Irene Adler. Your body language gave you away. It's defensive and you're standing apart from others. Add that to the darting eyes and you have all the classic signs of being in a state of unease. Also the fact that you're not in a costume and this is a costume party. It's clear you don't want to be here but were dragged by a well-meaning friend anyway.” She took another deep drag before tapping off the ashes with a red-nailed finger. “It hardly takes a Detective Inspector to figure it out.” 

Sherlock immediately became self-concious of his posture. The way his shoulders were hunched slightly, hand in his coat pocket. Did his eyes really dart? 

“You're not in a costume either, I could say the same about you.” Even as he said it, he knew it wasn't true. She was here for another reason. He took out another cigarette and chain-lit it before crushing the butt under his heel.

“I'm a homicidal maniac, they look like everyone else. Besides, I decided to come here of my own accord.” Her response actually got a small smile from him. 

“Oh, but you're not like everyone else.” Only too late did Sherlock realize he had verbalized his thought. _Oh well._

“Is that a compliment?” She took one last drag before crushing the butt of the cigarette under the toe of her shoe. She turned towards him and leaned against the wall, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She did it more with an air of superiority rather than defense. 

“You can take it however you like.” He supposed it _was_ a compliment. Granted, one he hadn't meant to say out loud. There was something intriguing about this woman; the way she observed instead of merely seeing. He studied her, trying to figure her out. Her clothes had an understated elegance to them, obviously expensive. In fact, too expensive for a uni student, so a girl from a wealthy family. She was well articulated and carried herself with a certain poise and confidence – accustomed to social situations – old money, perhaps. “Interesting that you came here willingly but not in costume. Now what can we deduce from that?”

“Many things, I'm sure.” She gave him a knowing smile, as if daring him to uncover the real reason she was here. 

“You attended this party willingly, but you're not wearing a costume. There's clearly a purpose other than to mingle with the inebriated. Your attendance was unexpected and you didn't plan on staying long otherwise you would have worn a costume. But why would you need to attend a party suddenly and for such a short period of time? Perhaps to meet someone. Meetings at parties and other crowded places are usually done so as not to attract attention. But again, you're not wearing a costume which suggests this was their idea not yours – you're coming to them. Now what are you coming for? The most probable and really the only answer is that you are meeting your -” The deduction hit Sherlock as he was speaking and he turned to stare at her wide-eyed. He lowered his voice, “You're meeting your drug dealer.”

“Well done. Though you don't have to look so surprised.” Irene smirked as she stepped into his personal space, placing a hand on his arm. New observations flooded his mind as he got a better look at her. Her eyes appeared to be a rather interesting blue-grey in the harsh halogen lighting. Her hair color was in fact a deep auburn rather than the mahogany he had originally thought it was. 

He took all of this and more within a matter of seconds, just in time to hear her next words. “Let's have dinner, Mr. Holmes. It's obvious neither of us really want to be here.” 

As he tried to process her words, he found himself wondering what her face would feel like if he were to reach out and stroke her cheek. He shook his head slightly, as if to clear it before responding. “I'm not hungry.” He looked away as he took a drag from his cigarette.

“Good. Neither am I.” She took another step closer to him so she was nearly pressed against him. The smirk had turned into a suggestive smile. He could feel her radiant heat against his side. He caught a faint trace of her perfume, the scent momentarily overpowering the tobacco smoke surrounding them. He struggled to identify the scent, running through his mental catalogue of perfumes. Several came close but none matched exactly. Frustrated, he cast that train of thought aside, telling himself the cigarette smoke was interfering. Suddenly the full weight of her words hit him. 

His eyebrows drew together and the corners of his mouth turned down, “Why would you ask to have dinner if you weren't hungry?” He dropped the butt on the ground after taking one last drag and turned towards her, using his height to stare down at her. He had moved closer, eliminating whatever space had been left between them. Why, he wasn't sure. Perhaps he had hoped to intimidate her with his height or get a better look at her features, try to figure out what was going on behind that suggestive smile. Maybe he had hoped to disarm her with his proximity, like she had just done. He refused to entertain the idea that he had done it just to be closer to her.

But Irene Adler was not the sort to be intimidated. The next thing he knew, she had him pressed up against the wall, her body moulded to his front, one leg between his, the scent of her perfume filling his nose. Her breath tickled across his cheek as she purred in his ear, “I have a very different kind of consumption in mind.” She kissed his cheek before pulling away, showing him something in her hand – a small bag of white powder. Probably cocaine. “What do you say, Mr. Holmes? We can get high and have dinner.” _'Dinner' must be a euphemism for something. Sex perhaps. Do I want sex with her? I don't know but getting high would be much better than this ridiculous party._

“What if I'm not sure about...dinner?” He was inexperienced in the realm of 'dinner' with women. And while sex was far from foreign, he'd only ever had the one partner. This wasn't the first time he'd been propositioned for drugs and sex, but it was the first time he was seriously considering accepting the offer.

Her red lips curled into a triumphant smile and her pupils dilated until her eyes became dark pools. “Then we don't have to, though you're missing out if you've never had dinner while high.” She turned and started walking away, presumably towards her flat. She didn't look back, just expecting him to follow. _Damn her confidence!_ He hurried to catch up with her, sending a short text message to John.

For the first time in weeks, excitement filled his stomach and spread throughout his body, his fingertips tingling. 

**Going home with someone. Don't wait up for me.  
-SH**


	2. Handprints and Good Grips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock decides to go home with the intriguing Irene Adler. After all, who could resist her charm? Especially when she offers him cocaine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warning: This chapter does include drug use.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> A huge thank you to my beta [of_dreamers_and_detectives](http://archiveofourown.org/users/of_dreamers_and_detectives/pseuds/of_dreamers_and_detectives)! I've lost count of how many times she has read and edited this chapter, offering wonderful suggestions and insights when I've been stuck. Her help has been invaluable to me while writing this fic. Thank you for all your encouragement and our late night conversations!
> 
> The song mentioned in this fic is ['Partition'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Py6_oJRVbTA) by Beyonce and it's the Platinum Edition version. I strongly suggest listening to it since it rather sets the mood for the scene. But you don't have to! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! I love getting feedback so let me know what you think in the comments!

The short walk to Irene's flat had been uneventful, with only the sound of her heels filling the silence between them. He followed her into the flat as she flicked the light on and observed his surroundings.

The flat was clearly inhabited by two people, though the other appeared to be out of town. “Your flatmate is out of town. Death in the family judging by the floral arrangement and tissues in the wastebasket. Empty liquor bottle and another half-empty bottle on the counter suggests she likes to drown her sorrows. Art major and...part of the drama club, they probably sent the flowers.” He turned to face her, she had taken off her coat and was unbuttoning her shirt; he averted his eyes and he thought he heard her laugh.

“Showing off or a nervous habit?” She disappeared into a back room and reappeared moments later dressed in a thick red sweater that brushed the tops of her thighs, her garters and lace-trimmed stockings visible. “I'd say it's a little bit of both.” A dull heat simmered in the pit of his stomach at the sight of her walking down the hall towards him, hips swaying; something he'd rarely felt in his life. Never with a woman. _Interesting._ Being a junior in uni, novel experiences were relatively rare. 

She brushed against him as she walked to the coffee table in the middle of the room and sat down, cross-legged. “Sit. Like you said, we're not going to be interrupted.” Sherlock took a seat next to her as she pulled out a small wooden box from under the table. She pulled out a small scale, paper squares, a razor blade, small empty baggies, and straws.

“You really nicked those squares from the chemistry lab?” Sherlock had done the same – he liked precision when taking drugs. Another reason he didn't like accepting people's offers, they were just too careless for his liking. Carelessness led to overdoses and unwanted side effects.

“Of course, then you're not snorting paper particles. What's your normal dose?” Irene emptied the cocaine onto a square and started dividing it up.

“Usually 100 milligrams but start me at 80, I'll adjust as needed.” She measured out the dose and passed it to him along with a straw and another blade. He divided the dose into several lines before snorting it. While waiting for the high to kick in he watched her work, pre-measuring doses into the smaller baggies – something he also did. It made it easier when one wanted another hit before the come down started. Once she was done, she placed the scale back in the box and started dividing her own dose into lines. He watched as she leaned forward to snort a line, the back of her pale neck exposed; he resisted the unanticipated urge to run his fingers down the length of her cervical spine. The thought of how soft her skin would feel under his fingertips filled his mind once again. 

By the time she was finished, Sherlock was beginning to feel the effects of the drug. Not able to ignore the urge to touch her any longer, he ran a hand up her stockinged leg, fingers brushing the lace trim. Irene leaned in closer and stroked his cheek, running her other hand up his thigh. She wore a seductive smile. He found himself leaning in towards her, their faces several inches apart. Only too late did he realize what his actions must have communicated. _Dammit, what the hell was I thinking?_

“Rethinking dinner, are we?” She snaked her hand around to the back of his neck, pulling herself half onto his lap. Knotting her fingers in his curls, she claimed his lips in a kiss.

His heart rate spiked and he struggled to breathe normally as panic seized him. _Too much. This is too much._ He pulled away from her and pushed her off his lap with a little more force than he had meant to use. “Too much. I-I...that's – I didn't mean,” he stammered as he ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to take a deep breath. She tilted her head and looked at him, he felt unusually exposed under her gaze. He could almost see her stripping away layers, trying to truly _see_ him. He realized that this is what John must feel like when Sherlock deduced him. It was rather unsettling.

“Haven't you ever had anyone?” She sat back and pulled her knees up to her chest. At least she didn't appear to be angry. Relief flooded through him at this, then subsequent irritation at himself that he would even care. Considering the crooked smile curling her lips, she actually seemed to be amused.

“Of course.” He assumed an arrogant air.

She considered him before speaking again, “You've never been with a woman though, have you?”

“No, sexual attraction is a rare feeling for me. I've only been attracted to a few men ” He started fidgeting with the straw; the cocaine's effects were really starting to take hold. “Look, can we do something? I can't sit still much longer.”

Irene thought a moment before getting up and grabbing her phone from the end table by the door and plugging it into the nearby speaker. She selected a song and it filled the room, starting with a slow tempo. He stood up and took his coat off before joining her in the free floorspace. He was comfortable with dancing, enjoyed it even. She pulled him closer by his belt loops before turning around and pressing her back to his front; her scent invading his sense of smell. He placed his hands on her hips as she started swaying her hips to the rhythm. The tempo picked up and he started to relax, moving with more fluidity. 

With inhibitions lowered from the cocaine, he started exploring her body with his hands. When he ran his hand down to her thigh, she emitted an 'mmm' and leaned her head back against his shoulder, arching her back, pushing her hips harder against him. He pulled her closer, fingers digging harshly into her hip bone and thigh; if he was hurting her, she didn't protest. He slid the hand from her thigh to her stomach, feeling her abdominal muscles ripple as her hips rolled against him. 

Sherlock let himself get lost in the feel of her. This woman had so subtly and completely ensnared him; first with her mind and now with her body. Irene's body was such a balanced combination of soft curves and sharp edges, so different from what he was used to. While he felt fascinated by the feel of her, he found her scent intoxicating. Her hair smelled of shampoo and sweat, and the faintest trace of tobacco smoke from her earlier cigarette. Then, there was the smell of perfume that complimented her own natural chemistry. All of it came together to create such a wonderfully heady scent. 

He nuzzled her neck, just behind her ear and below her hairline, and inhaled deeply. She responded with a giggle and tilted her head to the side to allow him better access. _What a beautiful sound._ Trying to elicit more noises, he brushed his lips along her neck but there was only a slight hitch in her breathing. He traced the same line with the tip of his tongue, tasting the salt on her skin, again getting the same response. Getting impatient, he bit down on the muscle connecting her neck and shoulder. He was rewarded with a shout of surprise that turned into a deep moan as he sucked on the spot. Oh, how he enjoyed leaving marks on his partners. He continued biting and sucking his way down to her shoulder. After finishing his exploration of her neck and shoulder, he turned his attention to her ear. Tracing the outer shell with his tongue, smiling to himself at her sharp intake of breath and the shiver that went down her spine. He sucked and nibbled on her earlobe, evoking a breathy moan. He felt an odd sense of pride that he was able to pull these noises from Irene. 

Irene twisted in his arms, and pulled him into a fervent kiss, one hand grasping the back of his neck, the other clutching at his shoulder. Her lips were harsh and demanding as she captured his lower lip and sucked. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body close to his, a hand cradling the back of her head. Her body bowed underneath his as he tried to pull every inch of her warmth against him. He felt her tongue trace the line of his lower lip, asking a silent question. He responded by parting his lips, her tongue flicking against his once...twice...three times before she pulled away, a mischievous smile playing on her face, her eyes dark with lust. “I need another bump. Take your shirt off and lie on your stomach,” her voice low and breathing heavy as she gave him orders. She walked over to the table and picked up two doses of cocaine, and the various paraphernalia.

“Why?” His voice caught on the single syllable as he started unbuttoning his shirt. Without her body to demand his attention, the condition of his own became glaringly obvious. He wiped the light sheen of sweat from his forehead, trying to ignore the pounding in his ears. _All side effects of the drug._

“Haven't you ever done a line off of someone's body? Now lie down.” She knelt down in front of him and looked up expectantly. Sherlock slowly unbuttoned his cuffs, eyebrows knit in confusion.

“Why on earth would I do that? It's much more efficient to use a non-porous surface like a mirror.” He flung his shirt off to the side and kicked off his shoes before crouching down. “But if you insist. It's your coke anyway.” He did as he was bid and laid down on his stomach, noticing a side effect that couldn't be attributed to the drug. He sighed as he lifted a hip and slipped a hand in the waistband of his trousers to adjust himself to a more comfortable position. He ignored the snigger from above as he rested his head on his arms, pointedly not looking in her direction.

“More efficient yes, but this is sexier. Now, don't move.” He felt her pour the cocaine on the dip of his back. The sensation caused chills to travel down his spine. Sherlock tensed his muscles trying not to shiver, he didn't want to waste any of the drug by spilling it. But the feeling of the cool blade on his already sensitive skin made him lose control. He couldn't help the shiver that rolled down his spine. Frustrated with himself, he buried his face in his arms. “Move again and I will spank you once I'm through,” Irene's voice had dropped low into a menacing tone. Knowing she wasn't the kind to make empty threats, he distracted himself by translating the lyrics of the current song to German. It proved to be a worthy distraction when the lyrics switched to French. 

The feel of the woman's tongue along his spine shattered his concentration. “All done. That wasn't so bad was it?” He pressed his face against his arms and groaned, arching his hips off the ground. Irene traced his spine with a fingernail, causing another shiver. “So reactive,” she purred. “I could have so much fun with you. Making you beg for mercy.” The touch disappeared and he heard the rustle of her clothes as she shifted. She sighed, “But, I suppose I'll behave just this once.” 

Sherlock rolled over and sat up, pulling his knees to his chest in an attempt to conceal his erection. Why, he wasn't sure, it wasn't like she didn't know he was already aroused. He just felt far too exposed to be comfortable.

“You look like you could use another hit.” She handed him a straw and the other baggie. A smirk appeared on her face as she slipped off her heels. “Bet I could make a better table than you.” She pulled the sweater over her head and laid down on her back before fixing him with a mocking smile. 

Sherlock thought about it for a moment. _What the hell, why not?_ He crawled closer and knelt next to her, appraising the flat expanses of her body. Deciding her stomach was probably the best place to do the line, he emptied the contents of the bag. While scraping it into lines, he heard a sharp intake of breath and looked up to Irene's face. Her eyes were closed and she had her lower lip caught between her teeth. Warm heat stirred in the pit of his stomach at the sight of her laid out before him. She opened her eyes, her expression changing to one of amusement, “You can't chicken out now. The best way to get it off my body is to snort it.”

“I wasn't chickening out,” he grumbled. He leaned down to snort the line off her stomach and heard her giggle as he licked the remaining granules from her skin. Making a face at the bitter taste, he sat back as she pushed herself into a sitting position, bringing her face within inches of his. Long, dark, curls had fallen from her previously pristine coiffure.

“Are you sure you won't have dinner with me, Mr. Holmes?” Her voice had dropped down to a murmur as she studied him. 

Sherlock looked down and he began tracing circles on her knee. He found the texture of the nylon over warm skin to be a rather interesting sensation under his fingertip. He paused to catalog the sensory information in his mind palace. He licked his lips nervously, looking up at her through the fringe of hair that had fallen in his face. Reaching out with slightly shaky hands, he placed them on her waist and pulled her closer. As his lips slid over hers, Irene straddled his legs and knotted her fingers in his curls. A firm tug tipped his head back, exposing his neck. She grazed her teeth along the smooth expanse of his neck, feeling him shiver. He pulled her roughly to him, wrapping an arm around her hips and an arm around her shoulders, gripping her tight before exploring her body with his hands. He wanted to feel every inch of her that he possibly could. 

Her body was so different from anything else he had ever experienced and he didn't want to miss any part. She was _soft._ Not just her skin, but her very body. The nearly imperceptible curve of her stomach. Her arse and thighs, though muscled, still had a layer of softness that yielded under his fingertips. Her bra was quickly becoming an annoying barrier; he wanted to know what the bare skin of her breasts would feel like. He moved his hands to the closures of her bra, trying to understand how they worked. Thinking he had it figured out, he tried to remove the lacy contraption. And failed. He tried to peer over her shoulder, fumbling with the closures. “How – how does this thing come off?”

Her responding giggle only added to his frustration. She pulled away slightly, untangling a hand from his hair and reached behind her back, an amused and superior smile on her face. She undid the closures with one hand (frustrating him further), her smile turning into a full-on grin. He watched as she slipped her arms from each of the straps and tossed the bra across the room. She stayed there balanced on his lap, letting him take her in. His hand no longer shaking, Sherlock reached up to cup her left breast. He heard a sharp intake of breath as he gently squeezed it. He looked up to her face, she had her bottom lip between her teeth, the grin no longer there. A smoldering look of lust had replaced it, her pupils blown wide. Her scent had changed as well, smelling heavily of musk; yet another sign of her arousal. Her nipple had hardened under his touch and he rolled it between thumb and forefinger. 

There was a sound of frustration before her hands were on his chest, pushing him onto his back. “Enough exploration. I think it's time we even the playing field a little. Don't you?” The wicked grin was on back on Irene's face as she straddled his knees and unbuckled his belt. She made fast work of the snap and zipper. He lifted his hips to make it easier for her to pull his trousers off, rather grateful for the relief of pressure on his erection. Once done with his trousers, she stripped off his socks and climbed back on top of him, running a hand up his thigh. “There, that's better,” she said, holding steady eye contact. Her hand continued to his hip, almost touching the bulge in his pants. His breath caught in the back of his throat at the near touch. “Wouldn't you agree?” She skimmed her fingernails up his stomach to his chest, stopping to pinch a nipple before skimming back down. Again, almost touching his erection. He groaned, arching his hips, trying to get any friction he could. Her teasing touches were agonizing. He wanted – no. _Needed._ He needed her to touch him and from the expression on her face, she knew it too. An ache in his lower abdomen set in.

Irene pulled his pants off, purposely not touching him. She straddled his hips, forcing them back down as she sat on his thighs. Sherlock could feel her damp heat seeping through her knickers. She ran a fingernail along the seam connecting leg to torso. He bit back a moan. “I want to hear you beg.” She continued her teasing touches, careful to never touch his erection. To not give him any relief. 

Sherlock screwed his eyes shut, trying to concentrate through the haze of hormones and drugs pumping through his system. A thought came to his mind. 

He grabbed Irene by the waist and rolled to the side until he was on top of her. His hands locked around her wrists, pinning them to the floor above her head. Sherlock wasn't normally so aggressive. Perhaps it was the drug, maybe it was a testament to the woman's effect on him. How thoroughly frustrated she made him. He didn't know and he wasn't inclined to give it much thought. He stared down at her, not quite sure what to do next. 

Irene snickered, amused by the situation. “My my, you're an impatient little thing. Though, you're not going to get very far with my knickers in the way.” She wriggled her hips, “Unless you're into frottage.” A salacious grin appeared as he emitted a low moan at the ensuing sensations. The wet fabric provided yet another foreign sensation to Sherlock. 

Sherlock lowered himself to his elbows so more of his weight rested on top of her. Wanting to thoroughly explore this new feeling, he started rutting against her. Irene's breathing grew heavier and she dug her nails into his back. “Such enthusiasm.” Her voice had gotten husky and her words breathy. Dipping his head to nuzzle her neck, he pressed his lips to her pulse point. Irene moaned, one hand reaching down to grasp his arse. She began to move her hips in time with his, increasing the friction. 

He pulled away as he began to feel an orgasm build, not wanting to prematurely end their evening before it had a chance to really begin. He felt his face flush as she looked up at him knowingly. Sherlock became frustrated with himself; he was usually able to keep himself under control. There was just something about this woman that made him want to throw caution to the wind. The cocaine probably wasn't helping matters. Speaking of which....

“Do you need another hit yet?” Sherlock sat back on his haunches, he was already starting to feel a comedown. 

Irene sat up, “Now that you mention it.” She stood up and grabbed two more baggies. She started walking down the hall towards her bedroom. “Are you coming?” Sherlock scrambled to follow her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise there will be smut in the next chapter. What can I say? I love being a tease ;) Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a cure for writer's block two months ago while trying to write my multi-chapter Adlock fic. And it was supposed to be a short one-shot but now I'm considering turning into a much longer multi-chapter fic. Maybe? It'll probably depend on how much you guys like it so let me know what you think in the comments! I LOVE getting feedback so don't be shy! The second chapter should be up soon. 
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr at [-wittyusernamehere-](http://-wittyusernamehere-.tumblr.com/)


End file.
